The Things I Never Said
by featherback
Summary: He rewrote it eight times, but he still couldn't seem to find the words.


You must understand that I never meant to hurt you.

I find it quite irrational to be starting off with such a phrase, as I am not typically prone to be a man of sentiment. Which confuses me all the more still, as it seems the entire driving force behind this, from start to finish, has been sentiment of the most unusual degree. Everything that has happened was for the benefit of other people. Mainly, it was for the benefit of you. I gain nothing from this except my own life and the knowledge you and several others will remain safe, but what is a life when everything which makes it up has been torn away?

I never meant to hurt you. I am not accurately aware of what you're experiencing right now, but I have a good hunch. It seems your comprehension of social empathy has rubbed off on me in this aspect. You're angry, I know for certain. Who wouldn't be? Even I can grasp that. Upon receiving this you're obviously realizing I'm alive, and that I deceived you; it was necessary. Extremely necessary.

You're confused, too. Because everyone always is, and in this especially I imagine anyone would be, even you with your intellect which manages to rise above the pithy thinking of the rest of the human race.

It has only been a month yet I find myself strangely craving company. Night after night each motel is stiflingly quiet, each train monotonous. I didn't know it was possible to choke on silence until now. And I am not supposed to be contacting you, as it could result in more problems than I care to list. But I guess everyone breaks. I always thought my breaking point would be with the drugs Lestrade weaned me off of. I never thought I would throw away life or death resolutions for another person.

But I digress; I cannot explain now. It would take several hours to sum it all up, and I have only a few precious minutes. Internet cafes are so tedious, and my train is about to depart. I will not disclose my location. They're still out there.

It was for your own good. You, the solitary friend, and the few others I can claim as my acquaintances. It was. I swear, and as well as other things, you should understand that when it counted, I have never lied to you.

Out of everything we've ever experienced, every harrowing escape, flight through the streets of London, or encounter with the Chinese mafia, this counts the most. And I am not lying.

So I'll say it again, in case you're also in shock, as perhaps you might be. Then again, I imagine you'll just be furious. You're too sensible for shock. It was one of the attributes which made you tolerable. Useful. Alright, likeable.

I'm alive.

_-Message not sent_

* * *

I never meant to hurt you.

I wish I could explain everything. You would enjoy the intricacies of how I survived such a fall. But time runs short, and in the distance I can hear the call of my train. I'm not going to give away my location. You would not know the name of the town without having to look it up, anyway.

I did this for several reasons. I understand you're angry, and confused, and perhaps undergoing various other emotions I cannot divulge the time right now to list and analyze. But I did this for everyone excluding myself. Most importantly, I did it for you.

I cannot say when I'll be back. Months, maybe. Years. I have a web to untangle, a vast, scarlet threading of underlings left behind by the largest spider of them all. It's necessary. People are still out there, searching for me while I search for them. And if I do not find them first, they'll come after you.

I'm alive, and far away. Just... don't do anything moronic.

_-Message not sent_

* * *

I've tried to write this three separate times now. I think I'm deadly close to missing my train.

I don't know what to say to you. Me, lacking words. How useless have I become?

I wish I could explain everything. I never meant to hurt you.

I don't know when I'll be back.

_-Message not sent_

* * *

You must be so angry with me. How interesting that before you, I never cared about how others perceived me.

I still do not.

Not entirely.

-_Message not sent_

* * *

I heard you at my grave.

I'm sorry.

_-Message not sent_

* * *

I'm sorry.

_-Message not sent_

* * *

There are so many things I never said.

_-Message not sent_

* * *

Sorry, John.

I'm alive.

I think.

_-Message not sent_

* * *

_-Message not sent_


End file.
